


Can't See My Way

by riventhorn



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-04
Updated: 2011-05-04
Packaged: 2017-10-19 00:28:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/194894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/riventhorn/pseuds/riventhorn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a prequel to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/163120">I Packed My Heart In the Box Labeled "Books"</a>. Modern AU. Arthur and Percival have been dating for a few months, but Arthur can't believe it will last.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Can't See My Way

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: No copyright infringement intended; no profit is being made from this

Arthur sat at his desk, staring at the calendar taped to the wall. _Fourteen weeks._ Fourteen weeks since Percival had called him, and they’d gone out for the first time. Twelve weeks and four days since Percival had flipped him over on the couch and fucked him. Twelve weeks and three days since he had given Arthur a bloody amazing blow job in the shower. Two weeks since they had spent an entire afternoon in the park, dozing in the sun and playing frisbee. Four hours since Percival had given him a kiss, brushed the toast crumbs off Arthur’s cheek with his thumb, and murmured, “Have a good day, baby.”

He was in a relationship. He was in an honest-to-God _relationship_ with another guy.

Arthur alternated between giddy elation and gut-churning anxiety. Because there was no fucking way that it was going to last.

At first, he’d thought it would be his job that ended it. As a cop, he worked crazy hours, lots of overtime, and shit from work inevitably bled over into his off hours. But Percival didn’t seem to mind when Arthur called and said he had to cancel, that something had come up at work. And Arthur could be a little rough with him, could wrestle and bite, and then let Percival hold him down and fuck out some of that tension.

When Arthur had said, “So, my partner and most of the guys on the force—they know I’m gay. But it’s better if I don’t talk about it, and so I don’t—I mean, I can’t really introduce you to them or anything.”

Merlin was always pestering Arthur to be more open with his colleagues, but Percival had just nodded and said, “Yeah, okay. I get it.” And he’d asked Arthur to stay over, and they’d spent a long time just holding each other before drifting off to sleep.

So it wasn’t the job that would end this. And it was making him a little crazy, the uncertainty of the whole thing, because he’d never had a real relationship before this. He’d only been out a few years, and mostly it had been one night stands, a week or two at most. He didn’t even want to think about all the girls before that because those had all been complete disasters, his only thought the whole time: _How can I tell my father I’m gay?_ And even though he had _known_ why they weren’t working, it hadn’t made the breakups any easier, any less painful.

And so he kept holding himself back, just a little. Or else he would be sure to fall in love and get his heart broken.

*

A call from Percival as he was walking to his car.

“Hey. Want to come over to my place tonight? Lance is out.”

“Sure,” Arthur answered. “I’m just leaving the station. I’ll pick us up something to eat on my way.”

Percival was stretched out on the couch when he got there, dressed in loose shorts and a sleeveless top that was showing its age, worn thin and soft. Arthur gave in to the impulse to go over and kiss him and run a hand up Percival’s chest.

“Busy day?” Percival murmured, humming his approval and tugging at Arthur’s tie.

“Paperwork and meetings, mostly.” Arthur took off the tie, stripped down to just his undershirt. “You?”

“Another glamorous day delivering parcels for FedEx,” Percival answered with a grin. He reached out for Arthur again.

Straddling Percival’s lap, Arthur gave him another kiss. “We could skip dinner,” he murmured, getting a hand under Percival’s shirt. “Go straight to bed.”

“Um,” Percival began, and his stomach growled.

Arthur laughed and pulled back. “Or not.”

He was digging through the bag, looking for extra packets of soy sauce, when Percival said, “I’m having dinner with my family on Sunday. I’d like you to come.”

Arthur froze and then slowly looked up. Percival was shoveling a forkful of rice and chicken into his mouth, as though his question had been completely innocuous, like he’d asked Arthur to pass the salt or something.

“You—you want to introduce me to your family?” Arthur asked hesitantly.

“Yeah.” Percival grinned. “My mum is dying to meet you.”

“Oh. Uh, okay, sure.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Arthur nodded and managed a smile. He made it through the rest of dinner and then left Percival with the dishes while he locked himself in the bathroom and called Merlin.

“He asked me to _meet his parents_ ,” he hissed, trying to keep his voice down. “What do I do—am I supposed to bring wine? Flowers? Shit, what if they don’t know that he’s gay?”

“Arthur, calm down,” Merlin said. “Of course they know he’s gay. And it’s only Tuesday. You have plenty of time to pick out a nice bottle of wine.”

“So you think I should bring wine, then? But what if—”

“Arthur, don’t worry about it,” Merlin said firmly. “You can always ask Percival what they would like. Now stop hiding in the bathroom.”

“But—”

Merlin hung up.

“Fuck, _fuck_.” Arthur stuffed his phone back in his pocket and splashed some water on his face. He could do this. This was a good thing. Percival really cared about him—isn’t that what asking your boyfriend to meet your parents meant? It meant Percival wanted this to last.

And so did he. Fuck, but he wanted it badly. Who was he kidding? He hadn’t kept any distance between them. He was in love. He was in _love_ and everyone he had ever loved had ended up hurting him. Except for Merlin. And maybe, maybe Percival.

*

They took Arthur’s car, Percival telling him where to go. After a great deal of agonizing and consultation with Merlin, Arthur had settled on wearing a nice sweater and jeans. (“A suit would be overdoing it, Arthur. Yes, I’m absolutely positive. No, we are not going shopping at six in the morning.”) A bottle of wine was tucked safely in the back seat.

Percival was pretty quiet—fiddling with the radio or staring out the window. Arthur had to clear his throat a few times before he finally managed to ask, “So, your family, are they okay with this? With you being gay, I mean.”

Percival nodded. “Yeah, they took it pretty well. I told them right after I turned eighteen. I think my dad kind of knew already, and all my little brother cared about was that I was moving out and he’d get to have our room all to himself.” Percival smiled, remembering. “My mum had a little trouble. I think because she doesn’t have a daughter, she’d always been looking forward to having a daughter-in-law at least.” He glanced at Arthur. “What about you and your dad?”

“He wasn’t too happy about it.” Arthur swallowed back a bitter laugh. Ever since he had told Uther, things had become so awkward and cold between them. Uther always used to call him, every Wednesday evening, without fail, but he’d stopped. And Arthur knew he was spending more time with Morgana now. Since his son had disappointed him.

Morgana. Another disaster. They had been close, growing up, once Arthur got over the shock of having to share his things with another child. And then it had all come out—that Morgana was really Uther’s daughter, that Uther had cheated on his wife, cheated on Arthur’s mother. And it had all suddenly made sense—the way Uther sometimes went to see Morgana’s swimming meets instead of Arthur’s football matches, the way he tolerated Morgana when she flouted the rules but came down so hard on Arthur.

He hadn’t known how to deal with the truth—still didn’t—and there had been fights and finally he and Morgana had just stopped speaking.

“Hey, Arthur—you need to turn up ahead.”

Percival’s voice brought him back to the present, and Arthur tried to shake off his thoughts, concentrate on this, on Percival. A few minutes later they were pulling to a stop in front of a white house with a neat lawn and— “Are those all garden gnomes?” Arthur asked, a little weakly, staring at a sea of red-capped, smiling faces.

“My mum collects them,” Percival replied. “Unfortunately.” He reached over and took Arthur’s hand. “Hey, there’s nothing to worry about, okay? They’re going to love you.”

Arthur nodded, took a deep breath, and then smiled when Percival brought his hand up to his mouth and kissed Arthur’s knuckles, one by one.

“See—I was right about you being a closet romantic,” Arthur teased.

Percival shrugged and smiled back. “Can’t help it with you, baby.”

As they walked up the drive, the door to the house opened, revealing a blond-haired woman, dressed in a vibrant shade of turquoise, and tottering on a pair of six-inch heels. “Percy! There you are—I was beginning to worry,” she exclaimed, and Percival stooped to give her a hug.

“Hi, mum.”

“And you must be Arthur,” she said, turning his way. “My, but I can see why Percy is so taken with you.” She smiled and patted Percival’s arm. “He talks about you _all_ the time, you know.”

“This is my mum,” Percival said, blushing. “Mum, this is Arthur.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Blunkett.” Arthur held out his hand.

“Call me Delilah, love,” she said, drawing Arthur into a hug and kissing his cheek. “Ian, where are you?” she called back to the house. “Percy and Arthur are here!”

Percival leaned in and wiped his thumb across Arthur’s cheek. “A little lipstick,” he explained, and they both choked back a laugh.

Percival’s father proved to be a large man, not quite as tall as his son, but just as imposing. He was wiping his hands on a towel and wore an apron over a button-down shirt and slacks. “Arthur,” he said, giving Arthur’s hand a firm shake. “Hope you like pasta. I’m just throwing together some linguine and chicken.”

“Ian is a fantastic cook,” Delilah put in, squeezing her husband’s hand affectionately. “I’m absolutely hopeless in the kitchen.”

“It sounds lovely,” Arthur said. “I, um, brought some wine…”

“How sweet of you—really, wasn’t that thoughtful, Ian? Now come in, both of you. Arthur, let me take your jacket.”

Ian went back to the kitchen, and Percival followed, but Delilah ushered Arthur into the living room, where he found himself surrounded by photos of Percival and a younger boy who must be his brother, Christopher. In the photos, Percival progressed from a baby into a boy with a gap-toothed grin into an awkward, slightly sullen looking teenager and finally into the Percival that Arthur knew, smiling broadly with his arm slung around his brother’s shoulders.

“My boys,” Delilah said. “I couldn’t be more proud of them. Chris should be here soon—he had to work an early shift this morning over at the restaurant.”

“He’s a chef, right?” Arthur sat down gingerly in one of the chairs, which was covered in a loud floral print.

“Yes. Fresh out of school. I think it was having his dad do all the cooking that inspired him.” Delilah handed him a glass of wine. “Percy tells me that you work with the police.”

“Uh, yes, that’s right. I’m a Detective Sergeant.”

“Brave as well as handsome!” Delilah exclaimed, sitting down on the couch and beaming at him. “Now, Arthur,” she went on, “I want to hear all about when you and Percy met.”

Arthur choked on his wine.

“Oh, my, it must be _quite_ the story,” Delilah said, patting him solicitously on the back. “I couldn’t get a word out of Percy, either. Don’t worry, dear, I won’t press you—I’m just happy he’s met someone like you. You must tell me when you’re thinking of moving in together so I can pick out a nice housewarming gift. Do you like neutral or warm color tones in towels?”

Arthur was rescued by the sound of the door opening, and Percival’s brother appeared, swooping Delilah into a hug and shaking Arthur’s hand. Chris was just as tall as Percival, although a little skinnier and with longer hair.

“This is why I have to wear heels,” Delilah confided in Arthur. “Otherwise I’d feel like a midget!”

Percival wrestled his brother into a head-lock, and then suggested going out into the backyard to kick a football around while Delilah and Ian finished getting dinner ready.

Arthur was slowly relaxing by the time they sat down at the table, although he still felt a little like a contestant on a game show with all the questions being fired his way—did he have siblings, what football team did he support, where had he grown up.

“And what about children, Arthur?” Delilah asked brightly, sprinkling a little more parmesan on her pasta.

“I’m sorry—what?” Arthur managed.

“Children, dear—do you want to adopt children some day?”

“ _Mum_ ,” Percival said. “Please.”

“I’m sorry, love.” Delilah sighed. “Of course it’s none of my business.” She reached over and squeezed his hand. “I just think it’s wonderful—the two of you—just wonderful.”

*

“So, what _was_ that?” Arthur asked when they were driving back.

“What do you mean?” Percival yawned, sitting up a little straighter.

“I mean that I thought your mother was going to start announcing our engagement to the entire neighborhood.”

“She just gets a little excited is all.”

“Oh, just a little,” Arthur muttered and then louder, “and what about you?”

Percival yawned again. “What about me?”

“I just—I want to know why you did that. Why you took me to meet your parents.” Arthur’s hands tightened on the wheel. “Because I’m not ready, you know. I’m not ready for—for—”

“It just means that I like you, okay?” Percival said quietly. “That’s all.”

“That’s all, huh? And what now? Am I supposed to invite you to meet my dad? Because it won’t be a bloody picnic, I can tell you that right now.”

“You don’t have to.” Percival glanced at Arthur, then back out the window. “Let’s try not to make a big deal out of it, okay?”

“Not a big deal? I’m not the one who brought up all of this shit in the first place. What about the kids thing, huh?” Arthur continued, a tight swirl of trepidation making his breath come faster. “Do you want kids? I mean, Christ, I’ve barely known your mum for an hour and she’s talking about _grandkids_.”

“Fuck, Arthur, I don’t know.” Percival sighed and scrubbed his hand through his hair. “I haven’t thought about it much.”

“Well maybe you should. We should.”

“I really don’t want to talk about it now, all right? It’s been a long day.”

And Arthur knew he should shut-up, let it go, but he kept on, “So you’ll take me to meet your parents but you don’t want to talk about this? I’d just like to know.”

Percival’s hand was a tight fist, resting on his thigh.

“Because I don’t want it to be a surprise that comes along, just when I think everything is good. I don’t want you to throw it in my face and then walk out.”

“What do I have to do, Arthur?” Percival asked, quiet, but angry. Hurt. “What do I have to do to make you trust me?”

“I _trust_ you. Fuck, of course I trust you.”

“No. You don’t. And I get it—I know you’ve had a bunch of shitty relationships, but you have to move past that.”

“You’re not a psychiatrist,” Arthur gritted out, “so you can keep your fucking opinions to yourself.”

“Fine. If that’s how you want it.” Percival didn’t look at him, kept staring straight ahead. “I think you’d better take me back to my place tonight.”

Silence settled over them, and Percival slammed the door hard behind him as he got out.

*

When Merlin got back to their shared flat that evening and saw Arthur’s expression, he didn’t say anything, just got them both a beer and sat next to him on the couch.

“They were actually really nice,” Arthur said at last, turning the empty bottle around in his hands. “His mum put out this linen tablecloth and their best china.”

“And?” Merlin asked quietly.

“I don’t know. I overreacted—started to think about where this whole thing is going and—” Arthur blew out a deep breath. “Fuck.”

Merlin pulled him into a half-hug, his arm around his shoulders.

The next morning, though, when Arthur was moodily stirring his cereal around with a spoon, Merlin said, “Call him,” and slapped Arthur’s phone down on the table.

Arthur eyed it warily. “Why? Can’t imagine he wants to talk to me.”

“Then he can hang up on you. If that’s the case.” Merlin went over to the counter and poured himself a cup of coffee. “But maybe it isn’t.”

Arthur had to go outside—stood on the balcony and wiped his sweaty palms on his trousers and tried to work up his nerve.

Percival answered on the second ring. “Hey.”

“Hey.” Arthur held his breath.

“Didn’t know if I’d be hearing from you,” Percival said slowly, and then faster, “I’m sorry, baby. I fucked up—shouldn’t have rushed you into that—I don’t want you to think—”

“I know—fuck, I’m sorry, too.”

“Look, all that stuff about the future—it doesn’t matter, we can figure it out as we go along, yeah? I just—I really want to be figuring it out together. With you.”

“You do?” Arthur asked, soft, hope surging.

“Yeah.”

Arthur had to lean against the wall, his knees suddenly shaky. “Me, too.”

“Can I see you later? After work?” Percival asked.

“Yes. Yes, fuck, yes,” Arthur replied, laughing a little, relieved.

“Okay.” And Percival’s voice was warm, affectionate. “Love you, baby.”

Arthur didn’t let himself think, didn’t let himself worry about possibilities. “I love you, too.”

*

Later, that evening when they were stretched out on Arthur’s bed, he _couldn’t_ think, could only feel as he came apart under Percival’s touch. He was getting used to taking Percival’s cock now—the first time they’d fucked it had fast and hard, and he’d felt it in the morning because, although Percival wasn’t ridiculously big, he wasn’t exactly small either. Sometimes, when Arthur knew they’d be seeing each other and knew he wanted Percival to slam him into the bed and go at it, he worked a plug into his arse a few hours early, so he was prepped. Not to mention that it turned Percival on like nothing else.

But once or twice, Percival had gone slow, had worked Arthur open with his fingers and his tongue until he was so wet and ready that Percival’s cock had just nudged into him, slid inside so easily.

Percival was doing it to him right now, three fingers in Arthur’s arse, fucking in and out of him, while Percival stroked Arthur’s cock with a slick hand. Arthur’s eyes were squeezed shut, trying to keep from coming, but every time he opened them, Percival was looking at him with such tenderness that he almost wanted to pull away, curl up tight and just center himself on the knowledge, the feeling that someone cared for him so much.

Percival’s hand left his cock to cradle the back of Arthur’s head and pull him up for a kiss. Arthur gripped his shoulders, fighting back a moan. They had some music loudly playing, but he still didn’t want Merlin to hear him. Besides, it was almost embarrassing, how much he wanted this.

Percival slowly released his mouth, went back to working his cock. “Mmm, that’s it,” he murmured, his eyes intent on Arthur’s face. “Know you need to come. It’s all right. I want you to.”

He started rubbing Arthur’s prostate, relentless, and Arthur felt his body tightening up, the breath rushing out of him. His cock pulsed out come, onto Percival’s fingers, his stomach, his chest, and Arthur groaned into it, shutting his eyes again.

He slowly came down from it, catching his breath, aware that Percival’s fingers were still moving steadily in his arse, spreading him open. He shuddered and tried to grasp Percival’s wrist, but Percival grabbed his hands, held them while he kissed Arthur. “Shhh,” he murmured against his mouth. “You can take it. So beautiful like this, baby.”

“You can—now. I’m ready,” Arthur managed.

Percival mouthed along his jaw and then pulled back, taking out his fingers, fumbling for a condom. When he sank into Arthur, he gasped, gritting his teeth at the sensation. “Fuck—yeah—that’s good.”

Arthur actually whimpered a little, to his shame, but he felt too full, too hot and stretched. He needed Percival to _move_ , and he bucked his hips, encouraging.

Two firm thrusts got Percival buried deep, and then he drew out, almost all the way, before slamming back. It choked the breath out of Arthur, and Percival groaned. Their sweaty skin stuck together, Percival’s hands were in his hair, his mouth was on Arthur’s neck, nuzzling, and Arthur felt dizzy, overwhelmed with it, and thought he would never want anything else again—nothing but to have Percival here with him, always.

*

“I love you,” he said afterwards, when they were lying on top of the sheets, the window open to send a cool breeze through the room.

“You said that before.” Percival smiled at him from across the pillow, reached out to brush back Arthur’s hair. “Wasn’t sure you meant it.”

“I did.” Arthur shifted a little closer. “And I thought—I thought I’d call my dad. Tell him about us, maybe ask if he’d like to have dinner. If you want to, I mean.”

“Of course.” Percival got an arm around Arthur, gently turned him so that Arthur’s back was against his chest. “Of course I want to meet your family.”

Arthur settled into his arms, feeling Percival’s breath against his ear. “I haven’t talked to my dad in awhile. I don’t know if—”

“It’ll be okay. And if he _doesn’t_ want to meet me, well, I’d still like to have dinner with you. Just the two of us.”

“Okay.” Arthur hid his smile against the pillow.

*

Uther sounded surprised when he answered the phone the next morning. “Arthur—I wasn’t expecting to hear from you. Is everything all right?”

“Yes. More than fine.” Arthur took a deep breath, listened to the sound of Percival taking a shower down the hall. “I have a boyfriend—Percival, and I think—well, I’d like you to meet him.”

A pause. “Of course, Arthur. Let me just check—does Thursday evening work?”

“Um, yes. Sure. We’d better go out.”

“Nonsense,” Uther said, crisp, in control once more. “Come over to the house.”

*

 _This_ dinner required a tie and jacket. Arthur sat in the car for a good five minutes, gripping Percival’s hand before he was ready to walk up and ring the doorbell. As soon as he stepped into the foyer, Uther pulled him into a tight hug. Arthur returned it, surprised.

“Percival, this is my dad, Uther Pendragon,” Arthur said, making the introductions. “Dad, this is Percival, my boyfriend.”

“A pleasure,” Uther said, and they shook hands.

The conversation was a little strained as they sat in the living room, waiting for dinner to be served. Any mention of work was out because Arthur knew his father still resented the fact that he hadn’t joined the family company. And every time Morgana’s name came up, an awkward silence fell. Luckily, Uther had been having some remodeling done on the house, and they were able to discuss the pros and cons of various paint shades, wood versus tile floors, and the impossibility of finding anyone who could do a decent job with molding. Not the most scintillating topic, but at least they weren’t just sitting there staring at each other. Although it made Arthur long for the days when they had been able to talk about anything—well, almost anything. His football matches, school, the company party that Uther was secretly dreading and would complain to Arthur about.

He missed it.

Dinner went smoothly—or at least, better than Arthur had expected. And then, when they were getting ready to leave, Percival already walking out to the car, his father stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

“Arthur—I’m glad to see you happy,” he said quietly.

“Thank you.” Arthur smiled, suddenly feeling a little shy.

Uther took a deep breath. “I let you down, Arthur. All those years that you were unhappy, that you didn’t feel like you could talk to me. If your mother—” He stopped, shaking his head.

“Dad.” Arthur had to stop, clear his throat. “I—you were there for me in a lot of ways that counted.”

“Maybe. But all this, and Morgana—”

“I _can’t_ do this right now,” Arthur interrupted. “I mean—just not tonight. With Percival here. But maybe, maybe this weekend or something I could come over and we could talk.”

“I’d like that.” Uther nodded, gave him another quick hug before going back into the house.

Percival shot him a questioning look when Arthur got into the car. “I think things might be getting better, with my dad,” Arthur said, and he laughed a little, leaning back in his seat. “Can’t believe it.”

Percival put his arm around Arthur’s shoulders. “And is all this okay with you? With us, I mean. We’re not moving too fast?”

He knew that there would be tough moments again, in the future. That he’d probably stress out over things, wouldn’t always know what to say, that there would be arguments. But right now—

“No.” Arthur leaned over and kissed him. “No, I think we’re just about right.”


End file.
